A Plane That Remains Flying
by amvtr221B
Summary: Is Sherlock... in love...? Just Sherlolly fluff plus lots of scathing remarks from John (and Mrs Hudson and maybe even Mycroft if I put my mind to it). Post The Final Problem with the whole 'I love you' thing still needing to be worked out. Sherlock H./Molly Hooper
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! Just wanted to let you know I'm REALLY new to this. Do not read on if you haven't seen all of season 4 (it's amazing). This is all just going to be Sherlolly fluff but I'm trying to keep to Sherlock's sociopathic character as much as possible. Hope you like it!**

It had been three days since the … awkward encounter with Euros. It was in this time where she had killed four men, three of whom were innocent and then almost forced Sherlock to choose between killing his brother or his best friend. But, it had been exactly three days, 4 hours and 34 minutes since she had forced him to do the thing he was most afraid of: facing his emotions.

That bloody coffin had become the source of his nightmares and the idea of facing Molly after what he had said to her killed him inside slightly. It obviously wasn't true. But she had always been there for him. She was the one who looked past the dickhead side of him and instead chose to see him as more of an incredibly irritating genius.

He couldn't help but smile at that thought. She herself was the symbol of naivety, but on occasion, showed her true colours with rather biting insults that downsized Sherlock's oversized ego. It was in this moment when Sherlock quickly realised he was day-dreaming because his mind felt suspiciously still. "Erggg… emotions." he thought to himself. He couldn't help but wonder if there was a small part of him that meant what he had said.

He quickly raised himself from his lazy, horizontal manner on the sofa and started to address the situation of his new head. It was missing an eyeball and his (?) brains had been blown out, but other than that is was a perfectly sound head. As he began to extract some of the rotting tissue lying here and there he wondered whether it was a task best completed at the lab. Where he'd have to face Molly. She looked so upset when they spoke… said she'd… had a bad day. God knows he didn't help the situation. He raised his hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes as he groaned in hopeless despair. This was easier when he wasn't so 'in touch' with his 'emotions'. He wanted to whack himself for even thinking about how she felt. You're never going to get what you want if you're so busy thinking about what everyone else wanted.

That was it. He was going to the lab. It was Molly Hooper, not Irene Adler! She would understand...


	2. Chapter 2

**This one's a bit longer. It got a little more emotional than I thought it would be if it's fluff you wanted, it's fluff you shall get! Enjoy...**

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The lab was silent. Sherlock could hear his footsteps echo through the hallways of St. Barts. He traced the steps he had taken hundreds of thousands of times before and pushed the doors open to reveal the morgue. It was a pristine white with both artificial and natural light radiating through the entire area. It had felt like years since he had been here...

In his state of trance, Sherlock failed to hear the faint footsteps coming up from behind him, and as he turned, he jumped back.

"Molly...!"

"Hi... Sherlock..." she replied quietly, looking at the zip lock bag full of Petri dishes Sherlock held in his right hand.

"Umm... I'm testing how long tissue can be kept under similar conditions outside the body"

Molly smiled nervously. "Sounds fun"

"Yeah..."

The room seemed more silent than before. Even with two people in it.

"Well, I'll let you get on then"

"Molly-" Sherlock started

"John told me about what Euros did. Thank you, Sherlock."

"There was never a bomb..."

"I know... but you still did it"

"I did what I had to do"

"Right," she said, not quite able to look directly at Sherlock. "Would you like anything..? Coffee...?"

"Yes," he said "Coffee"

"Black with two-"

"I know a good café round the corner. The owner gives me the best table in the house... and extra biscuits... if I ask nicely" his dry and sarcastic humour made Molly smile a little

 _'He really is such an arse'_ she thought

"Sherlock I really can't I-"

"Please"

"To be honest, I don't want your pity, Sherlock. You knew how I felt and you made me say it and I believed with all my heart that you meant it too."

"Look," Sherlock said abruptly "I don't do feelings. They are a waste of time and energy and brain usage. I would never have been sorry for the pain you were feeling before I met, you, or John, or G...reg...?

"Jesus, Sherlock" Molly sighed exasperatedly

"But I have met you all. And although there are times where I hate it but now is not that time. So please, Molly. Come and have coffee with me"

Sherlock's face fell as he saw Molly's face beginning to tremble and watched heartbroken as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"I love you, Sherlock. I always have. I don't know why and I hate myself for it and every time I think of you I just... I just... I don't know. But you'll never love me because it's who you are. So please just stop trying to make this situation any better. I have... bodies... to see to."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so, so sorry."

"No, you're not. You've won the game"

"It's not a game anymore. Not with you."

"What are you even trying to say?!" she yelled

"I care!"

And with that, he slipped his arms around her delicate frame and brought her close to him and pulled her in tighter than he ever had before. Breathing slowly into her hair to comfort her as she continued to cry.

"I know" whispered Molly.

"So, forgive me"

"I did; the minute you entered the room."

"So have coffee with me"

"OK."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"A coffin?!" she gasped

"It was ... stressful..." Sherlock said

"Sherlock Holmes was _stressed_ about the fate of Molly Hooper"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"What do you mean by that?!"

"I mean, don't be ridiculous of course I care about your 'fate' - as you so eloquently put it -. You're my friend"

Molly laughed nervously and a little half-heartedly. Once again she and Sherlock were back to being good old chums. Not that Sherlock has ever had chums. He's got friends. Not mates or buddies. Friends. Girlfriends...? _No._ She thought to herself. Sherlock was barely able to maintain _friendly_ relationships. Romantic attachments would be the end of him. But she couldn't help but daydream at the sight of him. His dark curls framing his sharp, structured face and juxtaposing his almost blue eyes. She'd imagined many things in her time. Her sitting on his lap while he sat in his worn out leather chair. Or him coming home from work and kissing her very pregnant belly. The wedding would be simple and small... but none of this ever seemed to portray Sherlock. Whenever she thought of him being... romantic... she would quickly realise she wasn't dreaming about Sherlock. She was dreaming about someone else entirely just in Sherlock's body. However, even when she sees him like the asshole he is... she can't help but wonder if that _is_ what she wants.

"Molly...? Molly."

"Huh? What? Um... yes"

"Tired?"

"It's been busy"

"Anything interesting?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know... bodies."

"Sherlock, you know my life doesn't revolve around the morgue"

"Um. Yes."

"Right. Well, yes I suppose"

"Alfred Jackwalshire. Shot in the leg and died from it"

" _Please_."

"What?"

"You know what happened, Molly"

"I do...?"

"Yes."

"He didn't lose much blood and there was no infection..."

"No. Think outside. Much, much further"

"Can you please jus tell me, Sherlock"

"Yes. But I have no idea."

"What?"

"I know you know, Molly. You have a knack for these sorts of things."

Molly laughed. Sherlock was oddly charming today as he laughed along with her. She liked to watch him smile. It didn't happen very often but when he did it was completely genuine.

"I should probably get back to St. Barts..." she said reluctantly.

"Yes I suppose we ought to, really"

"We?"

"Tissue samples, remember...?"

"Right". Molly laughed indulgently. He was up to something. He's never this charming when he doesn't want something from her. She quickly grabbed a biscuit from the large plate.

"Shame to have these all have to go to waste." she said.

"I'm sure they won't be," he replied

"Right...". Molly picked up her bag and coat. It was still winter in London. Although even in the summer she never seems to find the time to go out in anything without sleeves. She supposed it didn't help that fact that she spent most of her life in a lab coat anyway.

"You know, I think I'll leave the tissue overnight before I start testing it," Sherlock said

"Oh, ok."

"Besides, John will need me home. I'm helping him... clean out the... fridge."

"We both know that's bullshit, Sherlock"

"No really. I'm getting a new set of fingers delivered and the old ones are just cluttering everything up."

"Ok, Sherlock. Well, you have fun with that."

"I will."

"See you later..."

The thing that happened after this all seemed to happen in slow motion. As Molly turned to walk towards the bus stop, Sherlock grabbed her underneath her elbow and tugged to pull her round. As their eyes met, Sherlock's stomach flew into his throat. Her eyes were so innocent and unaware of what he was about to do. He pulled her towards him so her face was inches away from where he stood and placed both his hands on her face; his fingers placed gently on her neck and pulse points and his thumbs stroking her cheeks. He leant in and before he knew what he was doing his lips landed on hers, gently trying to part hers with soft kisses, she finally gave in and allowed his tongue to slip into her mouth. Her body was arched into his as he moved one of his hands further down to the small of her back, softly trying to pull her closer to him. Molly's senses finally decided to kick in as she pulled away. Their eyes locked for a second and the next thing she knew, her hands were on the lapels of his coat, allowing him to kiss her again, and again and again...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So I felt like that last chapter all seemed a bit rushed so I'm going to try to take it a little slower. More of the Sherlock we all know and love (even though he is SUCH a dick) but not quite as much Sherlolly as usual! A little bit of Johnlock thrown in (although that isn't what the story is going to be #sherlolly4lyfe). I always appreciate any reviews or recommendations and it makes my day know you're enjoying reading my little fantasies *evil laugh*. Hope you like it!**

' _Shit. Why did I…? What did…?'_ Sherlock thought to himself. His head was hung and looking at his feet and he was struggling to stop himself from smacking his head against a wall. She was just… standing there and she looked so… and they were laughing and back to friends.

' _Shit_.'. What was he going to tell John?

~oOoOo~

When Sherlock pulled away from Molly, looked quickly at her, opened his mouth and then turned around having said nothing and leaving Molly stunned. As she watched him walk away she remained frozen in the same position that he left her in. She finally mustered up enough courage to blink and shake her head.

"Ummm". She said, accidently out loud.

"Sorry…?" said a man who came up from behind her

"What? Uh, no, sorry. I was just... talking to myself." Molly replied sheepishly

"Oh, um ok." replied the man "have a good day then!"

"Yeah… thanks… you too!"

' _I'm such an idiot. He doesn't love you. It's just another of his stupid games.'_ she told herself (this time not out loud, luckily).

Although, it was incredible. She'd never been so close to him or felt him the way she just did. He was powerful and dominating, but kind and gentle all at the same time. Almost… sensitive. And his lips were so soft. She longed to be back with him.

' _Maybe I should go and see him… No that's a really terrible idea. But maybe he'll want to see me, so we can… no.'._ And it took everything in her to turn around and walk back to St. Barts, but she did it. Even though she might have well had just gone home; she couldn't think about anything except Sherlock.

~oOoOo~

"You what?!" yelled John

"I was trying to apologise and besides, you're the last person who should be lecturing me on inappropriate relationships.". Sherlock looked like a dog who'd had a mouthful from his owner

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"Can you stop yelling?! Your point is just as clear if you use your normal voice. Still the same words-"

"Shut up, Sherlock. Now bloody tell me, what do you mean by inappropriate relationships?" John continues to yell.

"You used to come home with a new woman on your arm every night… Well… you know whenever you could. I mean, then you met Mary and she's an assassin-"

"Retired."

"Yes well-"

"Sherlock, I don't care what you think about the women _I_ brought home. I care that you think you and Molly are in a relationship." He had calmed down a bit now but you could still hear the irritation in his voice. It was like he was talking to a toddler.

"That's not what I meant," said Sherlock

"Well, it's what I heard. You _can't_ lead her on, Sherlock. Not after what you did to he-"

"Yes. I know what I did" Sherlock said gruffly.

"So fix it. I'm going out."

"Where?"

"None of your business."

"Well, clearly it is because otherwise, you would've told me"

"Just shut up"

There was an awkward pause as Sherlock watched John put his scarf on.

"Say hi to Mary from me"

"Wha- How could you possibly have known that?"

"Because you're my friend, John"

John looked down at the floor.

"I know." he said, "thank you."

"That and you're wearing your outside-London coat."

"I have an outside-London coat?"

"Yes."

"Clever you"

"Yep." Sherlock smacked his lips as he spoke the 'p', making him seem more arrogant than usual.

"OK, Sherlock. Thank you and… I will" said John. A little disappointed that the small, sincere moment had gone.

"You will what?"

"Say hi to her from you"

"Right. Yes"

Sherlock pulled out some flowers.

"How long have you known I was going to see her?"

"3 days." said Sherlock smugly "you have a… pattern"

"What's that then?"

"You see something you link to Mary. Try to forget about it, battling yourself about whether you should move on or love her for the rest of your life. But you always end up going. You just need a trigger and from the trigger, you need a free time slot and here you are"

"Right, thanks, Sherlock. Heartfelt as ever…"

"I don't _love_ "

"You keep telling yourself that, mate"

"What?" Sherlock demanded as John walked away teasingly "what's that supposed to mean?" he continued

"Bye, Sherlock"

"No, John. I don't love anyone!"

"Go and speak to Molly," he said, now walking down the stairs.

"I know what you're implying! I may look like a sociopath but I've been with you for too damn long not to realise when you're being ironic!" Sherlock shouted. He heard the door slam and fell sulkily into his chair.

' _Such a child'_ he thought to himself.

He sat there for all of thirty seconds before realising that he was too hyperactive to just sit there. Sherlock was already bored without the company of his friend.

"Mrs Hudson!" he yelled

He heard the sound of footsteps grow increasingly louder as Mrs Hudson the housekee-... landlady walked up the stairs.

"I'm hungry"

"No, you're not, Sherlock. You're bored"

"When did you get so clever?" he replied scathingly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and turned to walk back down the stairs.

"OK, fine I'm bored out of my _mind,"_ he said dramatically

"Go and find a nice murder," she said; her tone lifted

"If there were any, I'd be there"

"Sherlock I'm not your mother I shouldn't have to come up with ideas with what you should do with your time"

"Fine. Get out. I just wanted someone to irritate anyway"

"Well, mission accomplished"

"Mrs Hudson."

"Yes."

"Tea?"

There was a quick pause in the conversation where Sherlock sarcastically give her his best puppy eyes.

"Ok. But for the last time Sherlock Holmes; I'm n-"

"Not my housekeeper. Yes, yes. Been there done that."

Mrs Hudson turned to walk down the stairs again

"Thank you!" Sherlock yelled, once again with great emphasis on the sarcasm

"I don't know how I put up with you!" she replied

' _Me neither'_ he thought, smiling to himself just a little.

He stood watching the busy streets of London. Everyone with things to do, places to go, people to see. Each person living their very own life and facing their very own challenges. When he thought about it like that, the world seemed very overwhelming. Sherlock reached for this violin. His chin fit perfectly chin rest and he brought the bow to the strings and pulled, ever so gently. The violin responded by playing a single note; clean and sharp and beautiful. Bach's Violin Concerto in A minor echoed through the room but was abruptly interrupted by the sound of Mrs Hudson:

"Oh! Hello dear!". Her voice was faint. So she was greeting someone at the door. Then he heard

"Oh, hello Mrs Hudson. Is Sherlock in?"

Molly Hooper.

"Yes. He's in a bit of a mood ever since John left."

"When was that?"

"Oh, around five minutes ago"

"Right" she laughed "has he started shooting any walls?"

"Not yet, but he's playing something loud on his violin"

"IT'S BACH MRS. HUDSON. I THOUGHT AFTER ALL THESE YEARS YOU'D START APPRECIATING MUSIC." Sherlock shouted

"Ah…" said Molly "I see what you mean."

"Molly come up. You can't just stand in the doorway pretending you actually _want_ to talk to Mrs Hudson"

"Manners, Sherlock," replied Molly

"Yep"

He heard her footsteps echo up the staircase and Sherlock removed the violin from his shoulder.

"Hello again, Molly"

They locked eyes and realised; they had a lot to talk about.


	4. Chapter 4

**Short one this time, guys. Sorry! It's a bit of a steamy one. All the feels. Let me know if you have any ideas about the date (Molly was very specific). Hope you like it!**

~OoOo~

"Oh god. I had this whole speech planned out." Molly said nervously "About how… I didn't… I mean I did! But you know, you don't know how to have a relationship! Not that I was thinking about _having_ a relationship. But-"

"Molly." Sherlock said, "I want a relationship."

"Yes, I know. But- Wait. What?"

"I… want a relationship. With you, Molly Hooper"

Molly laughed "No you don't. You want what _you_ think is a relationship"

"I know what a relationship is," he said as if Molly had said something unbelievable.

"Oh yeah? So what is it?"

"It's… you know…"

"Yes I know, Sherlock. You don't"

"It's dinner…" he said, looking at Molly quizzically as if it was almost a question. She looked back a little bemused at his answer. "And… cuddles" he said the word almost with disgust. Molly opened her mouth to speak. But Sherlock wasn't going to let that happen. "It's laughter and interest and waking up in the morning to the person you love. With messy hair and no makeup and-"

"What did you say…?" Molly said, unable to tell if she was distraught or overjoyed. "Did you say… love?". She was barely able to maintain eye contact with Sherlock and so was instead looking at his ribcage in absolute shock. She watched him come closer to her. He gently laid a finger on her chin and lifted it so their eyes met. It was electric. The heat was pulsing through Molly's body and she heard her heartbeat in her head. Her lips were parted, still unable to keep a poker face. Sherlock, however, was very capable. His face was unreadable except for the tiny glimmer in his eyes, in which sparkled hope, fear and:

"Love. Yes, love, Molly. Because what I said to you on the phone. It wasn't a lie. I thought it was but I _did_ mean it. With all of my dark and tiny heart. You're the purity inside of me. The angel to my devil. You are what makes me a good man, rather than a great one."

"You can't mean that."

"Yes! Yes, I can" Sherlock's tone was raised. Even close to tears "I swear to you. It's not a game. I love you"

Molly laughed and cried, digging her forehead into his chest.

"Say it again?"

This time it was Sherlock's turn to laugh.

"I love you. I love you! My god, I love you with every human part of me"

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes"

"Have dinner with me?" Said Sherlock after a few minutes

"No."

"What?"

"I don't want a normal, boring relationship, Sherlock. I want you and everything that comes with you. And besides, we won't last more than three minutes if we're just normal"

"So… what…?"

"Think of something. Something amazing and crazy. Something that'll inspire me and take me out of my comfort zone"

"No bodies?"

"If I wanted bodies, Sherlock. I'd go to work."

Sherlock laughed. It was like she was a new person. Not shy Molly Hooper who examines corpses. Someone who knows what she wants. Someone searching for the thrill in life. God, it was sexy. Another thing that Sherlock had never really seen in her (to be totally honest). She was standing there, in her oversized jumper that juxtaposed her skinny jeans and her hair was loose and wild, cascading down her back and shoulders. He needed her. Now.

"Oh, Molly. If you wanted thrill you should've just asked."

Molly gasped as Sherlock pulled her close to him and kissed her. He lifted her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Sherlock began making his way down Molly's neck and she let out a small moan.

"Sherlock, have you ever-"

"Yes. Don't worry"

Molly smiled, taking in the moment and slowly began to unbutton his shirt.

"Naughty girl. A little hasty, are we"

"Shut up, Sherlock" she replied, kissing him

He carried her to his room and shut the door behind him. Let's hope John doesn't swing by anytime soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**I'M BACK! Sorry, it's been ages guys. Just a short one I'm afraid, but I'd thought you'd like a cliffhanger ;))))**

 **Just you wait. I'm mentally building up the best date ever...**

"Sherlock. What in god's bloody name are you doing?!"

Mrs Hudson's words seemed to slip through both of Sherlock's ears. But it was in fact, her tone that set him off.

"Cooking."

"You don't cook. Or at least I bloody hope you don't or I'll have wasted many hundreds of precious time catering for you, young man."

"You didn't _waste_ that time. You don't do anything else." Sherlock snarled

"Sherlock Holmes, if you think my life revolves around your menu plan you can _pack your bags_."

"No. Not around my menu plan. Just around... me."

"The fact I haven't found the strength in me to punch you yet bewilders me sometimes."

"Well. To be fair you did tie me up and throw me in the boot of your sports car. Which, by the way, is a little 'mutton dressed as lamb' wouldn't you think?"

"I'll ignore that. What are you cooking... or burning, it seems?"

"... Shit."

Sherlock rushed to the oven and pulled out a charred, unidentifiable dish.

"What was it supposed to be?" said Mrs Hudson

"Lasagne"

"You hate pasta."

"Yes, but that's not pasta. It's lasagne."

"Well, it was."

"I don't want your sarcasm" grumbled Sherlock

"Sherlock, I think that was the _most_ hypocritical shit I've ever heard come out of your damned mouth."

Startled by the unexpected and abnormal use of swear words, Sherlock decided it was best not to fight the sarcasm with sarcasm and opted eventually for an half-hearted apology. This was met with a simple nod from Mrs Hudson side and they eventually both called it a truce.

"So, why the sudden interest in cooking," said Mrs Hudosn cheerfully

"Um, Molly-"

"Ah! I _knew_ there was something between the two of you... though I must say, I was surprised you would _ever_ get over John"

"What? I mean, no. She... er... lost a family member."

"Oh no! That poor girl. I mean as if she didn't have enough problems"

"Problems?"

"Sherlock. Her friends are dead people."

"Bullshit"

Mrs Hudson put her hands up in the air and shrugged. Then all of a sudden had a mood swing and shot her shoulder back down again.

"Oh. But who died?"

"Her father." Sherlock fibbed

"What?! My gosh. That poor girl must be distraught"

"HER FATher... the... cat. Her cats who she called... her father."

Although this was effectively the worst lie Sherlock had ever managed to cough up. Mrs Hudson proceeded:

"You see. Lonely."

"OK! Time to go. I'm sure you've got some terribly time-consuming hoovering to be doing now."

"I know what you're doing, Sherlock"

"Ah, so you _can_ read between the lines then."

With a roll of her eyes and a mutter about her kitchen burning down, Mrs Husdon left Sherlock to the excruciating torment that went by the name of cooking. With the lasagna proving to be unsuccessful, Sherlock opted for another dish. Which in the end, turned out more crispy and inedible than the last.

 _Who gives half a shit about cooking, anyway. I'd rather eat something that tasted good than having to chow down on something disgusting but that people put 'effort' into_ Sherlock thought to himself

~oOoOoOo~

Molly trotted over to the tantalising door of 221B Baker Street. The polished black paint reflected the stars that watched over the cloudless skies of London that night and the heavy, gold knocker felt cold to the touch. Molly lifted it. And as she did, a note fell at her feet. It was a licence plate number that had been lightly scribbled with a fountain pen. Undoubtedly Sherlock's handwriting. Looking at it quizzically, Molly stumbled backwards down the steps again and she heard the discernable roaring of a London taxi engine. Surely enough, the license plate matched the one on Sherlock's note. Had it been anyone else, Molly would never had gotten into the taxi. But it wasn't anyone. It was Sherlock. And she trusted him


End file.
